


Mending Wounds

by SpicyChestnut



Series: No Regrets [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, First time in a LOOOOONG time, Hurt/Comfort, Reunited lovers, Romance, Secret Marriage, post-BOTW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyChestnut/pseuds/SpicyChestnut
Summary: Link and Zelda reunite after 100 years--but time has made the heart grow unsure, and both struggle to resume their relationship as husband and wife; but time has also made the heart grow desperate, and despite the doubt they both feel, they find themselves quickly falling back into each others arms. Sequel to "Memories of Deya".





	Mending Wounds

“May I ask… Do you really remember me?” She held her hands to her heart, eyes eternally hopeful yet guarded as she gazed at him—into him, searching desperately for any trace of recognition. He simply stared back, tense and unmoving, his mind spinning in circles as the weight of what had just been accomplished struggled to process.  
  
He could scarcely believe it—almost didn’t dare to believe it. After all this time and all this struggle—all the loss they both had suffered—they’d done it: they had defeated Ganon, and Zelda was free. The very thing that had become his north star after the revelation in Deya had been achieved.  
  
Finally, after 100 years, it was all over. Zelda was free.  
  
And yet despite the urge to run to her, to grab her and hold her close and never again let her go—he felt rooted to the spot, almost not daring to believe that she truly stood before him lest the vision fade into nothingness.  
  
Her question dimly floated through his battle-worn mind, momentarily piercing his disbelief. Did he remember her? Oh, Goddess, did he remember her. Despite the clear concern she’d had that he would struggle to recall his past life—her leaving behind photos was evidence of that fear—he wasn’t sure it would have been possible for him not to recall at least some memories on his own given how many echoes of time spent together still lingered in every corner of the kingdom. In fact he had recovered memories on his own without any aid—several, in fact.  
  
But it was a loaded question; he knew this. She wasn’t simply asking whether he remembered who she was—her title, her role in destiny, or her name. She was asking if he remembered who they were to each other. Who she once was—still was—to him.  
  
She quavered as she gazed at him with wide eyes, battling a hopeful tilt of her lips as she awaited his answer. His eyes swept her trembling form, lingering on the tension in her shoulders, the tightness of her clasped hands, and the brightness of her startling turquoise eyes. Several feelings bubbled up within him at once, potent and intoxicating: overwhelming relief, unbridled joy, and a painful ache that suddenly, he realized, could finally—finally—be alleviated.  
  
Very quickly the fifty or so feet separating them became utterly unbearable.  
  
He was scarcely aware as the Master Sword fell from his grip. His muscles tensed and he took off at a sprint, rushing across the space between them until he crashed into her. He took her up in his arms before she could fall from the force of his impact, lifting her and spinning along with his momentum, holding her against him as though if he let go she would disappear. Burying his face in her hair, he breathed her in, feeling moisture prick at the corners of his eyes at the achingly familiar scent.  
  
“Yes—” he choked out. He had meant to say more, to at least give some indication as to the breadth of what he had recovered—that he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, she was the most important person in all of Hyrule to him. But a simple ‘yes’ was all that he managed to get out before his tongue knotted up.  
  
He heard a sob sound against his ear and felt her arms rise to wrap around his chest, gripping tight to his shoulder blades as she buried her head in his neck. He slowed his spin as his momentum eased, holding her tighter, her feet dangling just off the ground. They remained like that for several minutes—simply holding one another in the middle of Hyrule field, the breeze kicking up the hem of her dress and blowing her hair into his face.  
  
It was all so familiar—the feel of her body, the faint smell of safflina about her—like the warm comfort of your own bed after weeks of sleeping on the road; it was a comfort he could sink in to and never again return to the world. He felt like weeping, like screaming, like laughing—all at once.  
  
But before long she was pulling away with a start, gripping his left bicep gently in both her hands.  
  
“Link! You’re bleeding!” she exclaimed in familiar tones of worry—a worry he hadn’t even realized he was familiar with. He glanced down to where she held him, seeing a large pool of red seeping through the tan sleeve of his undershirt and staining the side of her gown where he’d held her. He hadn’t even realized he’d gotten injured; though now that he gave himself a moment to take stock, he could feel bruises and scrapes all over his body.  
  
Gently he raised a hand to hers, stilling delicate, fretful fingers and catching her eyes.  
  
“It’s alright, it doesn’t hurt.”  
  
Zelda still looked worried, worrying her lower lip gently. “That doesn’t mean it couldn’t get infected. You realize there are over 40 million bacterial cells in a single gram of soil, and—”  
  
Link couldn’t stop himself from laughing, feeling it bubble up from deep within his chest and stir something long forgotten in his heart. Though he had laughed many times since waking—at Robbie and Purah’s antics, while playing with the children of Hateno Village—this was the first time laughing had ever felt so full—and so free.  
  
Zelda stared at him with something akin to alarm as Link attempted to bring his laughter under control. “One hundred years and nothing has changed,” he said fondly with a smile, feeling warmth spread through his chest as he gently lowered her hands from his arm; though he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hand.  
  
Zelda’s alarm faded and she tilted her head in confusion, a hint of a playful smile in her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
Link shook his head, grin fading to a soft, affectionate smile. “Nothing… and everything.” Zelda’s brow furrowed and she opened her mouth to inquire, but Link spoke first. “I’ve got a camp south of here. Let’s make it there first, and then we can deal with this.” He raised his arm in gesture.  
  
Zelda eyed him a moment, still worrying her lip, before nodding. “Alright, that seems reasonable. But I will clean and bandage it first thing.”  
  
Link merely smiled, offering a firm nod. Turning towards the castle, Link lifted two fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle, summoning Epona from across the field.  
  
-:-:-:-:-:-:-  
  
The sun was nearing the horizon by the time they reached the camp site Link had studiously maintained within Hyrule field over the course of much of his journey. It sat atop a small butte just west of the Rebonae Bridge, and would make the perfect place for them both to rest before continuing on to Kakariko, and to Impa.  
  
Months ago when he first set out west from the Riverside Stable he’d seen the odd formation from the bridge and grown curious, climbing its steep cliffs to secure a vantage point over the field before continuing west across the dangerous plain. At the summit, he had unexpectedly run into another adventurer named Benny who’d had largely the same idea. Benny had been resting atop the summit for several days; she had built a bare-bones campsite at the summit’s center beside a large boulder, and brought with her a small crate of supplies, which rested beside the log.  
  
She’d startled at the sudden appearance of a travel-worn stranger climbing up over the cliffside as she roasted apples and chickaloo tree nuts; but they had quickly become friendly after a small, shared lunch. They chatted about the places they’d been and things they’d seen before parting ways as the sun set. Days later he’d returned with supplies of his own, and ever since had kept the campsite stocked for his frequent journeys through the field, slowly adding to it until it, before long, it had became a proper outpost.  
  
He kept a stockpile of wood for campfires, a selection of food staples and fresh water, a small cook pot and spit, a sleeping roll and extra blankets—all stored in a large metal chest he’d dredged up from the Hylia river and a couple of barrels he’d hauled up the cliffside. And now that he had rescued Zelda, it would make the perfect place to camp after such an exhausting battle, safe from all the monsters still roaming the field at night.  
  
Their journey south to the butte was a quiet one. Zelda sat side-saddle in front of him atop Epona, her warmth a soothing, reassuring presence against the lonesome approaching twilight. She dozed against his chest, her head periodically lolling gently against his collarbone. He felt a strange yet familiar protective urge rise up within him, and more than once he found himself drawing his arms closer against her sides, as though he could shield her from the encroaching nighttime chill. Yet she didn’t seem to notice his subtle motions, moving only to nuzzle into his chest when the occasional cool breeze would ripple across the field; and every time she did, he felt something in his chest tighten.  
  
She finally stirred as Link drew Epona up alongside the butte. As he pulled his horse to a stop, the sudden stillness drew her from her doze, and Zelda slowly sat upright, blinking around blearily before staring up at the tall, sheer cliffside in confusion. As she steadied herself in the saddle, Link dismounted, leading Epona by the reins to a nearby tree as Zelda continued to survey the area. Deftly he wrapped the leather straps around a low branch and, once secured, stepped around to Epona’s flank, offering his hand. She took it gently in her own and hopped down in one fluid motion, but continued to stare around in confusion.  
  
“We’re not staying out here in the open, are we?” she asked with concern. Link shook his head as he pulled his bow from his back.  
  
“No.”  
  
Turning, he aimed the bow at a large bundle of rope and wood at the edge of the butte’s summit, narrowing his eyes as he located his target and let loose an arrow. It sunk into a cord of rope, snapping it—and a rope ladder quickly unfurled with a clatter of wood against stone, coming to stop a foot off the ground.  
  
Turning back to Zelda, he slung the bow on his back and said with a smile and a tilt of his head, “We’re staying up there.”  
  
Zelda glanced at the rope ladder before turning to eye him with interest. “Is that where you keep your camp?”  
  
He responded with a simple nod, gesturing for her to approach.  
  
She smiled at him as she moved towards the rope ladder, giving an appreciative nod. “That’s very clever, Link! Trust you to come up with such an idea.” However, as she extended a hand to grip a rung of the ladder, she glanced up critically, the sound of the wooden rungs clattering against the cliffside filling the silence. With a nervous glance over her shoulder, she questioned, “This thing is… safe, right?”  
  
Link stifled a laugh. “Yes, I promise. You go first; if you lose your grip, I’ll catch you.”  
  
At his words she turned from the ladder, eying him with concern as she reached a hand out to his bicep, gently brushing her fingertips over the red stain on his sleeve. “Will you be alright with your arm?” she asked softly.  
  
His heart skipped a beat at the gentle look of concern in her eyes, and he placed a reassuring hand atop hers. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”  
  
Zelda eyed him a moment before finally nodding, then turned and grabbed the ladder’s wooden rungs securely with both hands before hauling herself up. Link followed behind her, feeling the burn of his wound and the many aches all over his body as he climbed; but as he turned his gaze upward, he soon found himself forgetting about his injured arm and bruised body entirely as Zelda’s toned, slender legs filled his vision, her calves flexing with the effort of her climb. He felt arousal stir within him, and as her muscles flexed again, his vision began to swim; and suddenly he saw her diving off a rock into Lake Hylia, wearing nothing more than her undergarments, her legs kicking hard just beneath the surface of the crystal clear water. He’d felt that same stirring of arousal then too, on that warm, sunny, stolen afternoon in a hidden alcove of the lake.  
  
The clatter of the wood returned him to the present, and gazing up, he saw Zelda several rungs above him. Shaking his head to clear the unexpected memory, he hurried after her.  
  
Once he hauled himself up and onto the summit, he saw Zelda standing in the center of the butte, gazing around at the campsite. Releasing a heavy breath, Link turned and leaned over the edge, slowly hauling the ladder back up, pointedly ignoring the burning in his arm.  
  
“This is lovely, Link!” Zelda’s voice echoed enthusiastically from behind him. Once the final bit of the ladder had been hauled up, he left the wood and rope in a haphazard pile by the edge, turning to see her beaming at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Despite himself, he felt butterflies flutter in his stomach, and quickly turned to glance around the the small camp he had slowly built over months, lest she notice his cheeks heat.  
  
A burned out campfire sat before a large, hollow long, which itself sat before a massive boulder in the center of the summit. He had whiled away many a night seated upon that log, gazing into the fire’s depths as he contemplated a hundred lost years.  
  
A metal spit hung over the fire, and a small cook pot sat beside it; and next to the boulder, behind the log, sat the two barrels and his metal chest. On the opposite side of the boulder, taking advantage of its angled overhang, was a tent, and a large swath of canvas stretching out from it to create a lean-to. His sleeping roll, and a haphazard pile of blankets, still lay just outside of the tent’s protection, beside the put-out camp fire. It had been a moonless night the night before he’d stormed the castle—and he had gazed up at the stars, wondering at the vastness of the sky.  
  
When it came to camping on the road, this was his favorite place to spend the night. It was by far the most well-stocked, and certainly the safest. Though the Riverside stable was nearby, with its large, comfy beds, it was often full—and there was no place to store his own gear. Here, he had a veritable stockpile—food and equipment for almost any occasion; but more importantly, he had privacy, and the space to be left to his own thoughts. And since waking, he’d had an endless number of them to sort through.  
  
Link smiled softly, heading for the log beside which she stood, pulling off his rucksack. Sitting heavily, he motioned for her to join him. She turned and sat lightly beside him and he opened the sack in his lap, rummaging around for the pack of medical supplies Paya always insisted he keep with him. He handed her the rolled woolen satchel, hand stitched by the Sheikah herself, extending his wounded arm along with it.  
  
“As promised.”  
  
Zelda smiled, setting the pouch in her lap as she reached for his arm, her delicate fingers landing lightly on his wrist before attempting to roll up his sleeve. Though her pull on the material was gentle, during the half hour ride south his blood had dried the fabric to his wound, and the jostling of the material pulled painfully on the raw skin. He struggled not to let the pain show on his face, remembering how much it distressed her to see him wounded.  
  
However, despite her gentle, persistent efforts, Zelda only managed to roll the material up to his elbow before huffing in frustration and releasing him, eying his arm critically.  
  
“I can’t get it up high enough. I think you’ll…” she trailed off, worrying her lip as her eyes darted fleetingly—nervously, up to his. “I—I think you’ll have to… take your shirt off,” she mumbled with sudden shyness, staring pointedly at her hands which had settled in her lap.  
  
Link felt his heart skip a beat, his pulse steadily increasing as her words registered in his mind. Then, he started; was he… was he nervous?! He was nervous! Why was he nervous? They were married for the Goddess’ sake! They had known each other a good deal more intimately than a mere bare chest; so… why did the prospect fluster him so?  
  
Attempting to shove the unexpected emotion away, he momentarily observed her, taking in the faint blush dusting her cheeks and the way her fingers fidgeted with the urge to twist and turn in her lap. So… she too was flustered by the prospect of it. Truthfully it was nothing—she just needed to reach his wound to be able to dress it properly. Yet here they were, acting like the nervous, lovestruck teenagers they had been over a hundred years ago, when his affections had been limited to daydreams and fantasies and they had danced around each other like fireflies on a warm, summer night.  
  
He had waited eagerly for the moment when he would rescue her and be with her again. Yet now that she was here, he almost didn’t know what to do. They seemed to have somehow fallen comfortably back into the friendly camaraderie they had enjoyed in the wake of her apology after the Yiga attack outside the Kara Kara Bazaar—and for that he was grateful; but the relationship of husband and wife—the relationship he had been so desperate to return to—was absent.  
  
And he was at a loss as to how to change that.  
  
Did she perhaps think he did not remember their relationship? He hadn’t yet had an opportunity to convey that he did, or share what other memories he had recovered—and admittedly such a topic would make for a rather long conversation. So did she, perhaps, fear that he would be put off by such an intimate request? Well… There was only one thing to do about that misconception.  
  
Deftly and without further question he unlatched his arm guard, letting it fall to the ground before setting about removing his harnesses. Draping them over the log, he then pulled at the undershirt tucked into his pants, freeing it from the confines of his waist band. With careful movements he pulled his champion’s tunic and undershirt up and over his head, pulling his good arm out first. Gripping the sleeve of his wounded arm carefully, he grit his teeth and yanked, ripping the material from his bicep where it had dried onto the wound, along with the scab which had begun to form over it. Fresh blood pooled at the site of the gash, and rivulets rolled down his arm, dripping off his elbow.  
  
Zelda’s gaze quickly returned to his face when a faint hiss escaped between his teeth, then immediately tracked downward to the red which now dripped down his arm.  
  
“Oh, Link! I knew I shouldn’t have let myself believe you when you said you were fine!” A small frown marred her soft features as she stood from the log, setting the medical kit onto the wood. Her hands twisted before her as she glanced fretfully around the campsite, her relaxed demeanor now one of agitation.  
  
Link raised his good arm, gently gripping her wrist and drawing her attention back to him. He offered her a small, reassuring smile as his thumb brushed her skin.  
  
“I am fine,” he reiterated gently, pushing the dull throb to the back of his mind, “It just needs to be cleaned and wrapped, and you’re already seeing to that.”  
  
Zelda stilled, eying him and biting her lip. After a moment, she nodded faintly.  
  
“Do you have any water?” she asked softly. With some regret he released her arm and nodded, tilting his head towards the chest.  
  
“There’s a fresh skein in there, and a kettle.”  
  
Zelda nodded, then moved towards the metal chest. Kneeling before it, one knee up and the other on the dirt, she lifted the lid with one hand—and suddenly he was transported back to a sunlit, grassy field one hundred years prior. Zelda knelt before him, in her dark pants and white blouse and blue over shirt, soft fingers wrapped around his girth, stroking gently as she glanced shyly up at him, asking in a soft voice: “Like this?”  
  
“Link?”  
  
Link blinked, heart suddenly hammering, the bright grassy field fading as the amber landscape resolved before him. Turning his head towards the voice with a start, he saw Zelda standing beside the chest, a black iron kettle in one hand.  
  
“Do you have any flint?”  
  
Link forced himself to the present, the unexpected fragment of memory still vivid in his mind, blood pumping from her remembered touch.  
  
“I—yes, here…”  
  
He bent beside the log as Zelda set the items beside him on the wood, extracting a fist-sized chunk of flint and an iron dagger from his rucksack and handing it to her.  
  
“I can start the fire, you don’t have to—“  
  
Zelda smiled softly, murmuring a quiet, “It’s alright,” as she reached to grab the items in his hand. As she did her fingers brushed his—halting and lingering a moment before pulling away. Though she kept her eyes averted, he felt something electric pass between them, briefly, before fading as she retreated towards the remains of the fire.  
  
And suddenly, once again, he was transported back in time—to the castle, outside her bedroom on the balcony which led down to the castle grounds. She was dressed in her royal gown, one arm full of books as she attempted, poorly, to drag a chair out of her room through the narrow doorway. The book at the top of her pile teetered dangerously as she pulled on the heavy wooden chair before falling—and he reached out, grabbing it by the spine before it hit the ground. She stared at him, open-mouthed for a moment before resuming her attempts to maneuver the chair beside the balcony railing.  
  
Once finally in place, she set down her stack of books and turned to him, a bright, grateful smile adorning her features. He extended the book to her, and she reached for it. It lasted only a moment, but as their eyes met so too did their hands—and as her cheeks pinked with a faint blush, he knew; there was something about her, something which stirred the heart he kept buried beneath obligation and duty—something he didn’t want to let go of.  
  
The sound of metal striking flint pulled him from the memory, back to the top of the butte where Zelda had piled fresh logs and dry grass atop his burned out campfire, and was attempting to generate sparks. But her strike was too weak, hitting the flint at the wrong angle. With a soft smile, he bent down, gently taking the materials from her struggling hands.  
  
“Here, let me.”  
  
With nimble fingers he brought the dagger down upon the flint in several successive strikes, generating a flurry of sparks which quickly ignited the dry grass. He then leaned down beside her, blowing on the burning material gently until embers turned to flames. As the flames set fire to the kindling, Link leaned back on his knees, smiling at his success; but the feeling of eyes on him drew his gaze left. Looking to Zelda, he spotted her staring at him with glassy eyes and a furrow to her brow. She looked about to cry… He felt his stomach plummet.  
  
“What? Did I… do something wrong?” Link asked with sudden worry. Zelda shook her head, clearing her throat.  
  
“No—no, I just… seeing you set up camp, it’s… so familiar…”  
  
She looked away, and Link felt his heart lurch at her statement, and at what was left unsaid: that last they had done this together was a century—multiple lifetimes—ago.  
  
Link felt guilt, and the pain of a hundred lost years pull heavily on his heart. He eyed her softly, reaching out a hand and setting it gently atop hers, his thumb rubbing circles over her knuckles. And, once more, he was elsewhere, one hundred years in the past, sitting beside her in the castle gardens as she apologized to him for being so cold after he had saved her from the Yiga. She had opened up to him, then—shared her fears and her worries, and the weight of her burdens. He had reached out to her, placed his hand gently on her own—and was rewarded with her smile, soft and sweet and warm.  
  
Just as she was looking at him now.  
  
The crackle of the fire interrupted his thoughts and reluctantly he released her, offering one last reassuring glance before moving towards the log and retaking his seat. He watched her in silence as she flitted about the campsite, hanging the kettle from the spit above the growing fire, digging a bowl out of the chest and examining the contents of the medical kit paya had given him. Once the kettle began to whistle, Zelda used a spare strip of cloth to pull it from the fire, pouring some into the bowl before replacing it on the far end of the spit and coming to sit beside him. She placed the bowl of water carefully atop the log, cautiously adding cool water from the skein before taking out a fresh cloth from the medical kit and dipping it into the water.  
  
Reaching gently for his arm, she murmured, “This may sting a little…”  
  
Heat and the rough texture of cotton rubbed against his arm in gentle circles, wiping off the sweat and blood which coated it, and Link clenched his teeth as the cloth neared the sensitive flesh around his wound. After another pass, with a satisfied nod she deemed it clean. Dipping the cloth back into the water, she brought it once more to his arm before squeezing gently, allowing the hot water to pool into the wound, flushing it of blood and dirt. This time Link couldn’t help but squeeze his eyes shut, straining to repress his groan, and Zelda murmured a quiet, apologetic, “Almost done.” She repeated the motion twice more, then finally set the wet cloth into the bowl of water, reaching for a needle and thread she had left prepared atop the medical kit. With a grimace, Link once more offered his arm.  
  
Zelda eyed him regretfully. “I’ll make it quick—promise.”  
  
Link nodded mutely, stifling a pained grunt as he felt her pierce the raw skin with the needle. He stared hard at the fire, watching the flames dance and flare with the wind as he struggled to focus on anything but Zelda’s deft fingers and the stab of the needle into his sensitive flesh.  
  
As the sharp sensation drew him once more from his attempted reverie, several memories suddenly erupted in his mind all at once—Zelda examining a cut on his forehead atop death mountain, gazing into his eyes to check for a concussion after a fall from atop a talus, her hands splayed across his abdomen as she cleaned up a nick from an arrow which had just barely missed him.  
  
“This… has been a pattern with us, hasn’t it?”  
  
Zelda glanced up briefly from her work, eying him curiously before smiling in amusement and glancing back down, pulling the thread through the skin with a gentle tug.  
  
“Yes… it has been.”  
  
He eyed her as she brought the needle up to her mouth, biting off the thread and setting the needle back in the medical kit.  
  
“I don’t remember you ever stitching me up before.”  
  
Zelda didn’t look up this time as she answered, focusing on her task as she nimbly tied off the threads.  
  
“I’ve done it twice before—once on your thumb, and once on your leg.”  
  
Link turned both thumbs up to face him as Zelda pulled forth a long, thin strip of gauze and began to wrap his arm, but spotted no scarring on either. Perhaps it had been too shallow a wound?  
  
Zelda must have noticed his observation, as she said quietly, “I suspect the shrine of resurrection healed all of your old scars, as well as your wounds from battle. I noticed you were missing—“ Zelda suddenly halted, her face shading as she returned to her wrapping, quickly finishing her sentence. “—missing one.”  
  
Link looked up, noting her embarrassment, his head tilted in confused curiosity. “Where was it?”  
  
A blush peppered her cheeks as she looked up from her work, quickly tying off the cloth before turning to face him fully. Her eyes tracked down to his abdomen. Slowly, almost nervously, she extended a hand, soft fingers coming to rest just above his navel. He felt his body shudder at the unexpected contact, his heart beating suddenly very hard against his ribcage.  
  
“Here,” she said quietly, drawing along his skin a path from just above his navel to just below his left pectoral. Her touch, soft and gentle though it was, set his nerves alight. “You… told me it was a training accident,” she added softly, her fingers stilling atop his abdomen; but she didn’t pull back. Instead, her gaze nervously lifted to meet his.  
  
As their eyes locked, her bright green orbs shining with a strange sort of intensity in the dimming light, he felt something long dormant stir within him—and it held him firmly in its clutches. He brought a hand up, slowly, to wrap gently around hers, but didn’t move it. He merely held her gaze, enraptured by the sight of her, and the allure of her nearness. He heard her breath hitch.  
  
“I don’t remember,” he murmured quietly, feeling his heart beat powerfully in his chest.  
  
“What do you remember?” she asked breathlessly, eyes wide and just a little bit glassy.  
  
Another loaded question. Though a part of him felt nervous to broach the subject—after all a hundred years was a long time—a greater part of him wanted nothing more than to reassure her, to tell her he remembered; that he knew who she was, not merely to Hyrule, but to him. More than anything, he wanted his wife back.  
  
“I remember Deya,” he said quietly, watching her carefully. As his words sunk in, her eyes widened, then her brow furrowed as she bit her lip.  
  
“Our—our…?” she asked, voice wavering and nearly inaudible.  
  
“Yes,” he breathed, holding her hand a little bit tighter.  
  
“How… how much do you remember?”  
  
“Everything,” he answered simply, roughly, voice low and tinged with emotion—but he didn’t notice, and hardly cared.  
  
Her eyes began to crinkle as his words hit her, and he brought her hand up to his lips, planting a soft, slow, reassuring kiss atop her knuckles. A sob pierced the quiet of the summit, and as he looked up he saw tears shining in her eyes, her lips formed into a small frown.  
  
Driven by a deeper instinct, he leaned forward and took her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. Her arms immediately rose to wrap around his neck, and she buried her face in his shoulder.  
  
“Link…” she sobbed, her voice a broken whisper, “I didn’t dare hope…” Tears fell onto his shoulder blade, sliding slowly down his back and leaving wet trails in their wake. “I thought… I thought if you could just remember who you were—who I was… I would be so lucky… Goddess, I’ve missed you so much…”  
  
His arms tightened around her as a tidal wave of emotion crashed within him. There were a thousand things he wanted to say, but the only thing that came out was a quiet, choked sound as he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the foreign yet all-too-familiar smell of her.  
  
Goddess, she was here. For the first time since she came floating down from the sky after defeating Ganon, it began to truly sink in. She was here—she was safe; but more than anything, they were together. After a century he finally held her—held his wife—in his arms again; felt her heart beating against his. How had he gone so long without this—without her…?  
  
He didn’t know how long they remained locked in their embrace; but by the time she pulled back, the sun had dipped below the horizon, turning the sky a dim, grey-blue. She kept her arms around his neck as she stared into him, fingers playing with the fringes of his hair. Her gaze was raw and vulnerable, full of joy and sorrow and pain, and he felt his heart lurch. He moved his hands from her waist to frame her cheeks, gently wiping away her tear tracks with the pads of his thumbs. Her eyes were a bit red and puffy, and her eyelashes stuck together from the moisture of her tears; but somehow, she had never looked more beautiful.  
  
“When you collapsed in my arms,” she murmured thickly, “On Blatchery Plain, I thought… I thought I’d lost you—“ her voice choked up, and she shut her eyes tightly as a pained grimace overtook her features. “Leaving you behind in the hands of the Sheikah…” she whispered, “I… it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do…” her voice trailed off into nothing, but the weight of her words felt like a shout.  
  
Pain and guilt welled within him—but more than anything, sorrow. He couldn’t bear to see her upset—he never could. With a self-deprecating smile, he lifted her chin gently with a crooked finger and attempted a humorous tone.  
  
“Harder than holding back evil incarnate for 100 years?” he joked; but his smile quickly faded as he took in her pained expression.  
  
“Yes,” she choked out, a single tear leaking from her eye and sliding down her cheek. Link felt his own expression fall, and a traitorous lump form in his throat.  
  
Grabbing hold of her arms, he pulled her hands down from around his neck, holding them in his own over his heart. He lowered his head, kissing each knuckle to allow him time to compose himself before speaking; and when he did, his words were slow and halting.  
  
“Before I found Deya…” he began quietly, “Every memory I recovered of being your knight—I knew, something was missing. Nothing felt right.” He leaned down again, kissing the back of each hand slowly, methodically, before continuing. “And then… I found the Chapel. And… I remembered…” his voice was wavering dangerously and he could feel his chest tightening as he spoke, but he forced himself on, lifting his head to gaze into her large, watery, green orbs.  
  
“I am so sorry,” he whispered, moving a hand to brush her cheek, feeling his own eyes mist. “For abandoning you—for failing…” He lowered his head in shame. “For forgetting…”  
  
One of Zelda’s hands pulled free of his, coming to rest against his cheek. Despite his shame he nuzzled into her achingly familiar touch, and she pulled his head up to hers, resting her forehead against his.  
  
“It’s okay,” she breathed quietly, “It’s okay… you didn’t fail—and we’re here, now. Together.” She offered a small, watery smile, her eyes bright and full of adoration—of understanding, of forgiveness; and Link felt his chest tighten and breathing constrict, a strange tether forming between them—a hypnotic, magnetic pull beckoning him closer.  
  
He stared deeply into her eyes, unable to turn away. Neither said a word as an all-too-familiar electric tension built between them, but he could feel the hairs on his skin stand on end, keenly aware of her presence—her nearness. Without even realizing, millimeter by millimeter, he drew closer, her lips nearing his; and as his face stilled a hairs breadth away, he heard her breath catch—and something within him snapped. Crossing the scant distance that remained between them, he pressed his lips firmly—desperately, against hers.  
  
Fireworks erupted between them.  
  
A long-dormant hunger, a need he hadn’t realized was building within him exploded the moment her lips touched his; and he found in her kiss the only antidote to the fever rising inside him. She was soft, her lips warm and pliant beneath his, returning his urgency with a need of her own. A small whimper escaped her, and he tightened his grip possessively around her waist, angling his head to kiss her deeper.  
  
“Zelda…” he whispered roughly against her lips; and she whispered against his.  
  
“Link…”  
  
He felt his heart swell in a way he hadn’t experienced since waking in the shrine, and the feeling left him breathless. Zelda arched in to him, her tongue trailing along his lower lip; a needy sound rumbled in the back of his throat. His hands released hers, snaking around to the back of her head and pulling her closer, spreading his fingers and threading them through the soft, silky strands of her hair. He opened his own mouth, the tip of his tongue teasing the tip of hers, their breath mingling in the air between them as their tongues began a strange but familiar dance—fast, and desperate, and full of one hundred years of aching want.  
  
Her hands, which rested freely against his chest moved up, atop his shoulders, trailing gently over his collar bones before settling at his neck, thumbs stroking his jawline. She moved closer, scooting along the log until her thighs pressed against his—but the fever within him was rising. He needed more; wanted her closer, still.  
  
Releasing her hair but not her lips, he trailed his hands down her back, letting one wander to her waist and the other skim teasingly along her outer thigh until he reached her knees. Then, he firmed up his grip and lifted her onto his lap. Though he expected such a sudden move to startle her, Zelda hardly reacted, instead settling herself comfortably and moving her arms to wrap fully around his neck, pulling herself closer.  
  
His body thrilled at the long-forgotten feeling of her so close to him, and the sound of her desperate, ragged breathing. He could feel her warm breath fanning over his face with each needy press of her lips, and he shivered at the way her hands rose to tangle in his hair, pulling lightly on the strands. A heady mixture of passion and desire and need was slowly filling his being, and as his thumbs rubbed circles over her outer thigh, through the dingy material of her once pristine prayer gown, he couldn’t help the rising urge to touch her—not through her gown, but flesh to flesh—soul to soul.  
  
But was she ready for that? Was it… too soon? They had only just found each other again, after a hundred years…  
  
He didn’t have long to contemplate before she suddenly pulled away, mere inches separating their faces as her panting breaths warmed his cheeks. Link opened his eyes, turning his gaze to hers only to see tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Lifting his hand to her cheek, he gently stroked her skin—a soft, soothing gesture, as he looked questioningly into her eyes. Was this okay? Had he gone to far?  
  
Though her eyes were crinkled with the threat of proper tears, a pained joy radiated from her gaze. She leaned in slowly, placing a lingering, featherlight kiss on his lips as a single, sparkling tear trailed down her cheek. Then, she pulled away and returned her gaze to his, eyes wide and vulnerable as she whispered softly, almost brokenly against him, “Show me that you remember…”  
  
His heart skipped a painful beat as her soft words echoed like canon fire in his ears. He stared wonderingly into her eyes—her imploring, scared, hopeful, desperate eyes—feeling similar emotions tangle within himself. He knew he didn’t remember everything—there were plenty of gaps and missing pieces. But he knew the most important thing—how much he loved her; and by the Goddess, he would show her that—he would make her feel that.  
  
Closing the distance between them he angled her head and captured her lips gently, slowly, taking his time as he pressed his lips to hers, parting, pulling away, and moving in again. He let their rhythm build with an almost painful slowness, forcing himself to be patient—to let this last, and luxuriate in the simple feel of her lips.  
  
But it seemed he need not be patient long. Soon, her kiss became more fervent, and he gladly met her need with his own desperate desire. Open mouth met open mouth; tongues tangled and breath mingled. Her arms tightened around his neck, fingers fisting his hair as she arched into him. Almost without thinking he moved one hand under her knees and the other behind her back before firming his grip and lifting her up bridal style off the log. Despite the sudden movement her lips never left his, and his never left hers as he crossed the short distance to his sleeping roll. Kneeling, he slowly, carefully, lowered her onto the blankets.  
  
He reluctantly pulled away, moving his lips to her neck as he blindly kicked off his boots one at a time, hearing her clumsily remove her sandals as well. He trailed wet kisses up to her ear as he positioned himself between her legs, and let his free hand glide slowly, teasingly along the bare flesh of her thigh, past her knee; but stopping before he neared her core. If there was one things he did remember, it was that she loved foreplay—and what he wanted now, more than anything, was to please her—to make her feel the depth of his love by the depth of her pleasure.  
  
Sliding his hand back down her thigh, he pulled away, sitting back on his knees as he lowered his hand to her ankle and lifted her leg onto his shoulder. He eyed her momentarily where she lay atop his blankets, her eyes unfocused as she gazed in his direction with her arms askew above her head. He felt something warm bubble up in his chest, something proud and possessive and just a little bit animalistic. He let his gaze rake over her lithe figure and the way her dress pooled around her hips. Her cheeks dusted pink under the heat of his gaze, and that possessiveness within him crowed with his small triumph.  
  
He turned to her calf and planted a soft, wet, lingering kiss before trailing slowly upward, along her inner thigh, stopping halfway to her womanhood. She let out a quiet whimper and he felt the shiver race up her leg as he trailed back down, back along her thigh, then down her calf again, sucking lightly on her ankle before lowering her leg once more to the ground.  
  
He leaned over her, one hand placed beside her head as the other came to rest at the back of her neck along the base of her skull. He gently tangled his fingers in her hair, lowering his head inch by inch as he twirled the delicate strands, until his lips hovered just over hers and her breath hitched.  
  
“Zelda,” he sighed, feeling joy and passion and naked want swirl within him. “My Zelda…”  
  
She stared up into his eyes, hers glassy and bright in the dim firelight, chest rising and falling with the rapid rhythm of her breathing and beating heart; then she arched up, capturing his lips as she whispered, “My Link…”  
  
Though part of him wished to take things slow, her kiss threw any such thoughts from his mind. It was needy and desperate, hungry and messy, intensifying quickly until she was writhing beneath him, her hands wandering up and down his torso and her legs wrapping urgently around his waist. His lips devoured hers, sucking and biting, feeling far too out of breath but unwilling to stop. His heart thundered in his chest and his pants become suddenly far too tight as the voracity of her need washed over him.  
  
Suddenly, and with unexpected strength, she lurched sideways, pulling him with her—and he rolled with her momentum, falling into a familiar pattern he didn’t know he knew, flipping himself onto his back as he pulled her atop him. She now sat astride his hips, her hair creating a tent around their faces as she slowed their kiss, sucking gently on his lower lip before pulling away.  
  
A small, impish, yet still shy smile adorned her features, her hands pressing against his bare chest as she pushed herself upright atop his lap. She didn’t say a word, but as her fingers reached for the belt below her bust, he realized her intentions—and his stomach tightened in anticipation. Looking down shyly, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, she delicately unlatched the belt, carefully tossing it to the side of their makeshift bed. The fabric around her breasts loosened, sagging slightly, and she lifted herself up, gathering the material where it pooled around her legs and deftly lifting the dress up and over her head.  
  
Only the warm glow of the campfire and the dim remnants of the day’s rays were left to illuminate her smooth, milky skin, and it framed her in a golden glow. Keeping her eyes averted, she tossed her dress to the side, resting her hands on his chest and drawing shapes with her fingers on his skin. But Link could scarcely pay much attention to motions.  
  
She was… beautiful, stunning—a goddess in her own right. The gentle slope of her breasts gave way to pale pink, peaked nipples. Her waist narrowed in a smooth hourglass shape before broadening into strong, curving hips and thighs, her womanhood covered only by the thin white cotton of her underwear. He knew what she looked like—he had recovered several memories of the more intimate time they had spent together; but seeing her bared to him in person after so long, delicate skin illuminated by the warm glow of firelight… he did not have words.  
  
His hands found their way to her hips of their own accord, and the feel of her skin beneath his calloused fingers felt like home. Her eyes lifted to his in response to his tender touch, and he felt his heart flutter upon seeing the sweet, nervous way she bit her lip, and the blush which highlighted her cheeks.  
  
“You are so beautiful,” he uttered reverently, gazing up at her with unveiled adoration. She blushed harder, turning her gaze away again.  
  
“You always used to say that,” she murmured shyly, her fingertips tracing circles on his chest. Link lifted his hand to her cheek, turning her face back towards him. When her eyes locked with his, he spoke—softly, gently—but with conviction.  
  
“I have been to every corner of Hyrule and seen so many beautiful things… the tiered falls of lake Floria, the view from the highest peak in the Hebra mountains, a field of silent princesses sparkling with dew…” his free hand slowly began to trail up her side, until it settled at her ribcage, his thumbs barely brushing the underside of her breasts. “But none of them have ever—ever, taken my breath away the way you do.”  
  
His words hung heavy in the air between them, the only other sound that of owls screeching as they began their evening hunt. As his words hit her, her lip began to quiver, and beads of moisture pooled at the corners of her eyes; but a ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, and he felt his heart soar as she leaned forward, whispering brokenly, “Oh, Link…”  
  
Her arms burrowed beneath his head to wrap around his neck, and she brought her body down to press flush against his, her breasts soft and warm against his chest—her legs tight against his hips as she planted a searing kiss upon his lips. Any lingering sense of restraint, any desire to take things slow evaporated at the feel of her bare flesh against his; he let out a groan.  
  
He met her fervor in a clashing of tongues and teeth, exploring the recesses of her mouth and relishing the unique taste of her. His hands trailed up her sides, then along her back, and he rested one hand atop her shoulder blade as the other threaded into her hair, fisting the soft strands and using his leverage to angle her head and kiss her deeper—to taste more of her, feel more of her.  
  
When his lungs began to protest the lack of oxygen he reluctantly released her, and Zelda pulled back slightly, panting. She wasted no time putting enough space between their bodies to lower her hands to his pants, quickly undoing the buttons on his trousers—an action that caused his heart to skip several beats. She managed to loosen them with impressive speed and he felt the tight material restraining his erection give a little.  
  
She yanked hard, and he lifted his hips to aid in her efforts to divest him of the last of his clothing. She pulled his pants and underwear down his legs and once they neared his ankles he kicked them off, sending them flying across the camp where they settled with a rustle on the ground. He now, finally, lay nude beneath her, his erection pressing into the lips which were separated from him by the now damp fabric of her underwear. But she wasted no time there, either, just as quickly pulling the material down her legs and tossing it to the side.  
  
As she lowered herself back down, she let out a faint whimper; and he finally felt the delicious warmth of her body against his, intimate flesh to intimate flesh, her wetness causing her lips to slide smoothly along the length of his shaft where she sat atop him. She settled onto his pelvis, her eyes shut tight and her lower lip between her teeth as she rubbed her body against his, reacquainting herself with the feel of his hardness. He let his hands trail slowly up her thighs until they came to rest at her hips, his thumbs stroking the dip of her hip bone. She let out a breath before opening her eyes, slowly rising up off his pelvis before angling her hips, and sinking back down.  
  
Her body took him smoothly, almost eagerly, her lips gliding easily down his length. She was tight, squeezing him as she took more and more of him into her. A soft moan escaped swollen, parted lips as her hips came to rest flush against his, and her fingers curled into fists atop his chest.  
  
Link bit down on his lips, stifling a loud groan as pleasure lanced through him, white-hot and electric. His hands tightened around her hips as the sensation of her body—of her warm, wet passage—enveloped him. She was heaven.  
  
Slowly, she lifted herself up, squeezing his length as she slid along it and he let out a low groan, feeling his balls tighten and his cock throb. Just as slowly she lowered herself back down, and he felt his nerve endings sputter and spark.  
  
This was the most exquisite torture; a torture he couldn’t bear to endure when he knew he finally had her—all of her, here before him, ready and waiting and just as eager as he. As her hips once more came to rest against his, he moved his hands to grip her around the waist, pulling her down onto his chest and carefully, but forcefully, rolling them over until he once more lay atop her. She blinked up at him, a faintly amused smile pulling up the corners of her mouth; but her smile quickly gave way to parted lips, a soft moan escaping between them as he slowly pulled out, then thrust deeply, powerfully into her.  
  
Her head fell back and she moaned, pulling him closer and gasping into the night air, angling her hips upward to meet his thrust. He did it again, pulling out then thrusting slowly, deeply, sheathing himself fully. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder blades, and as he began a steady rhythm of deep thrusts, snapping his hips into her, he felt her body shudder in response.  
  
Something raw and hungry and animalistic had risen up within him, mingling with the gentle tenderness he had felt not that long ago—that he still felt, deep down. He wanted to pleasure her, to coax her into a gentle, powerful climax, yes—but he also wanted to claim her, to leave his mark on her and show the world that she was his; his, his, his. A  hundred years and countless trials had separated them, and now that he had her back, he would let nothing take her from him; let nothing and no one dare presume they didn’t belong together.  
  
His lips lowered to her neck, and he laid searing kisses along her flesh, biting and sucking, leaving marks behind which he laved with his tongue. She moaned as his rhythm picked up speed, and keened as his hands trailed down to her breasts, gently cupping the mounds of soft flesh as his fingers teased erect nipples.  
  
His heart was pounding, blood rushing in his ears, the sound of her pants and gasps and moans music to his very soul. Those sounds of pleasure were growing louder, echoing out across the field; her nails dug deeper, burrowing into his flesh just shy of drawing blood. He could feel his own body tensing, a coil of pleasure tightening low in his belly. He was close—but he would make sure he took her with him.  
  
Pulling away from her neck, his lips found hers, absorbing the sound of her cries as he kissed her hard, their mouths moving frantically against one another.  
  
“I’ve missed you…” he panted against her, taking her lips before attempting to speak again, “…so much. You are everything—everything…” He was uttering nonsense and he knew it; but his heart needed—demanded—to speak to hers, just as his body spoke with hers through the language of flesh and sweat and heat.  
  
“Zelda—Zelda…”  
  
She whimpered, drawing her legs up and wrapping them around his waist as she deepened their kiss, whispering against his lips, “Link, I—”  
  
He thrust into her, and felt her legs tighten around him, desperately pulling him in deeper—and then suddenly she was screaming, her head falling back and her body tightening like a vice around him as tremors racked her frame. He didn’t stop. He thrust again, and her legs tightened around him again, urging him deeper—and suddenly he was seeing stars too, his vision flooding white as pleasure exploded within him, his rhythm faltering and stuttering before he fell still, his head falling to her shoulder as he panted against her in the stunning afterglow of his release.  
  
They lay in stillness for several moments, both just breathing, taking in the feel and presence of the other. Her hand came up to stroke his hair as she let out a soft laugh, and warmth flooded through him—both from their shared orgasm and the tender, intimate gesture. After a moment of collecting himself, he raised his head to see her gazing softly at him, a smile tugging at her lips.  
  
Link felt a smile growing as well, and he moved to hover over her before lowering his lips to hers. This kiss was slow—languid and tender and full of wonder. His hand rose to her cheek, gently brushing her skin with the pad of his thumb as their lips brushed against one another lazily.  
  
As he felt himself begin to soften, Link reluctantly pulled back. Propping himself up he carefully pulled out of her before rolling onto his side. He moved his arm to her waist and pulled her body against his, and she eagerly obliged, curling up against him with her head on his chest and her legs tangled with his.  
  
A cool nighttime breeze blew across the plain and he reached over her for a loose blanket, pulling the thick cotton weave over the both of them. Once they were both safely and warmly ensconced, he pulled her tighter against him, nuzzling into her hair and basking in a closeness he hadn’t felt in far too long.  
  
“I’ve missed this,” he murmured against her ear, thumb rubbing her arm gently where he held her. She tilted her head up, meeting his gaze with a soft, tender smile.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” she said quietly, before lowering her head and resting it against his chest, right above his heart. “You know… I used to love listening to your heart beat after we made love. I always found it so soothing. Now… now I think it’s my favorite thing in the world, because—because it means you’re still here, still with me.”  
  
She didn’t look up as she spoke, but nonetheless Link’s heart fluttered painfully. Her comment was so sweet and yet so full of heartache; and yet there was no resentment or bitterness towards him in her words. She simply stated it like a fact—like a joy she wanted to share with him. Goddess, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve her.  
  
He nuzzled into her hair once more, holding her closer, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.  
  
“Nothing could keep me from you,” he said quietly. She stilled in his arms for only a moment before once more turning up to look into his face. Her features were gentle, and a warm, bright smile lit up her face. She arched her neck, planting a soft kiss to his jawline before resting her head on his chest once more.  
  
A comfortable silence fell between them. He could feel her absently tracing shapes on his chest with her fingers, and the way her head gently nuzzled into his shoulder. Link gazed up at the sky, feeling more content than he could ever remember feeling as he admired the brilliance of the stars that still shone brightly despite the growing light of the waxing crescent moon. His eyes scanned the heavens, absently making note of constellations before his eyes fell on a particularly prominent one sparkling in the southern sky.  
  
“Ordona is bright in the sky tonight,” he said quietly, pointing south towards Lake Hylia.  
  
“She is beautiful,” Zelda agreed softly, turning her head to rub her nose against his chest. “Did you know Ordona is the patron spirit of fertility?”  
  
“No, I didn’t…” He smiled at her comment. Trust her to know such a fact. He held her tighter, resting his cheek atop her head as he admired the dotted sky in silence for several minutes more. As his eyes once more fell on Ordona, her factoid suddenly brought a realization to the fore.  
  
“We… didn’t use protection,” he murmured, thumb rubbing gently against her arm as he contemplated the implications of that statement.  
  
Zelda let out a soft sigh, rolling her head to the side as she moved to wrap her arm around his waist. “I know,” she said quietly.  
  
“The only stocked laboratories I know of are Purah and Robbie’s. If we left at first light, we should be able to make it to one of them in time to—”  
  
“It’s alright, Link.”  
  
Link stilled, not expecting her words. He pulled back and propped himself up on his arm to get a better look at her face. Her gaze was fixed on Ordona towards the south, eying it thoughtfully. His brow furrowed. He was the one with memory loss, not her—and he distinctly remembering her saying when they got married that she was far from ready to have children.  
  
“But… you realize that—”  
  
“Yes.” She turned from Ordona to eye him meaningfully, holding his gaze for several moments. Link felt his eyes go wide. She couldn’t mean…  
  
“Link…” she said softly, averting her gaze as her cheeks dusted pink, “I—I’ve had one hundred years to contemplate my life, and the life we could have had if things had gone differently. I will respect if you aren’t ready; You haven’t had the time that I have had. But…” she nervously returned her gaze to his, eyes soft and vulnerable, “If it were to happen… I would be glad of it.”  
  
Link stared at her with a furrowed brow, her words sinking in slowly. As their meaning began to coalesce in his mind, he felt his eyes widen and his chest tighten, unexpected moisture pricking at the corners of his eyes.  
  
“I—are… are you sure?” he asked hoarsely.  
  
Silently, her gaze never leaving his, she nodded—and he felt his heart thud painfully in his chest. He lowered one trembling arm down to her bare abdomen, placing his hand gently atop her navel, then turned his wondering gaze back to hers. He smiled tremulously, and she smiled back—lips quivering and eyes scrunched and glassy. Her hand came to rest atop his, her thumb stroking his knuckles gently, and he felt his heart burst with a feeling he was only now beginning to readily recognize.  
  
Love. He was so very, deeply in love.  
  
Lifting his hand from her belly, he raised it to her cheek, lowering his head to kiss her lips, soft and slow and sweet. A family… he had never dared allow himself to consider it.  
  
After so long, and after so much heartache, finally they were together again—and now that they were, he would let no force in the world would pull them apart. He knew there was still a long road ahead and many things to discuss—she still had a throne to reclaim and a kingdom to rebuild; but it was a road they would travel together—and together, there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish. Ganon was defeated, Hyrule was at peace, and endless possibilities lay ahead.  
  
Perhaps now, after one hundred years, they could finally begin their own happy ever after. Smiling against her lips, he whispered softly, reverently:  
  
_“I love you.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Though this was originally supposed to be the third and final installment in this series, inspiration struck and I’ve decided to extend it. After this there will be another 3 oneshots, some with smut and some without. It’s not on my priority list at the moment, though, so this will have to suffice for a while.
> 
> Don't forget to leave a comment with your thoughts! I love hearing what you guys think! ^^


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